COGS
by 1destiny
Summary: the time and place is an alternate early 1900's, where steam is king and coal is the life blood of every air born city. We follow many characters in seemingly unrelated stories, but as the clocks tick and the wheels turn, fate seems to be drawing them close together in preparation for some Goliath event that could change the course of history forever. A steampunk adventure.
1. Welcome to the World

The sun shone bright, casting a golden sheet of warmth everywhere it could reach. But the citizens of the floating sanctuary town of Helios Maxima, knew not of the suns brightening exploits. Their sky's were perpetually filled with the black and gray residue of the feasts of coal their city consumed to stay airborn.

Helios Maxima was only one of many cities that hovered hundreds of miles above the tarnished and scarred earth. Some cities were in slightly better condition: cleaner air, more greenery, good food supply, and strong leaders. However, most were far worse. Most simply screamed anarchy as they were slowly destroyed from the inside out: corrupt government, illness, starvation, and crime. These cities would rot away as their resources depleted, to the point that there was no longer fuel enough to keep the hellbent mass from plummeting to the earth. Most of the time, all residents had perished, or fled by air ship to another city just before this disaster. But sometimes, a poor soul or few are still present as the engines putter out and die, able to watch as their death comes up to meet them in the form of unforgiving, solid, earth.

But let us return to Helios.

The streets of the large sanctuary city were wide, damaged, and bordered by machines every few feet on each side, their massive clockwork grinding away to keep the blocks operating smoothly. Machines were not the only things to line the street. Buildings of all shapes, sizes, and functions were crammed together like odd boxes on a shelf. Tailor shops, grocery stores, libraries, pharmacies, clock makers, bakers, butchers, botanists, workshops, and homes. All of these and more resided on the plots of the floating city. Some buildings were in top condition, others were huddled and worn like old hunch backed beggars made of brick and mortar.

The people of the city much resembled the buildings, coming from all walks of life and mingling in unpredictable ways. On the streets you may pass as many as three lords and ladies one moment, and then promptly run into a battered pauper a moment later on the same stretch of pavement. It wasn't unusual to also meet a range of inorganic, or even semi organic beings. You might see an inventor walking with a clockwork creature he created to help him with the shopping, or, perhaps, an old withered sailor with an arm made of brass and clockwork where flesh and blood had once held residence. At one time, one might have even run into an air pirate in disguise, restocking or stashing loot after months of pillaging the skyways. But those days had ended by then, pirates outlawed, hunted down, tried, and put to death. The few that had survived had long since hung up their coats and hats, going into hiding, blending with society in hopes that their scurvy pasts remain forever buried much like the treasures they had left behind.

Many of the people believed life dull and humdrum, complaining to unsympathetic ears about doing the same thing over and over. For them, the days held no excitement. But these were only the people on the surface, and every city, even those claiming to be sanctuary, had underbellies and back alleys, shady corners and shifty docks, dark streets and dangerous back roads. It was here that the real adventures were had and stories were told. And stories are meant to be shared.

Come and listen to the soft words and sharp lessons, the gentle phrases and rough characters, the silver tonguing and the ashen souls. Come meet the misfits that changed the world.

* * *

Hey people! Here is number one. Yes, I know it is short, but please don't kill me. This was more of an introduction; a way to introduce the setting and mood. I am almost done with the next chapter, which is a lot longer than this. I mean a loooooot longer.

Another thing: I am still asking any artist who has the time if they would be interested in designing a cover for this story. If I don't get any takers, I'll just do it my self, which is okay too, but I wold really love someone else's creativity on this. I don't have any idea what I could give as a reward so let me know if you have any ideas on that, and drop me a line if you are interested in trying your hand at the cover.

Well, I guess all that's left is to say thanks for reading, and to ask for the usual reviews and favorites. Let me know what you think! :3


	2. Something Lost Something Found

The streets were unusually crowded that day, bustling with activity centralized around small stands that now lined the roads along with the machines. This was a much anticipated time of year for the people; the time that the traders came back from their voyages to distant cities with holds full of exotic treasures. From sweets to scrap metal and everything in between, the traders brought them back and sold them on the streets. Even as people were bursting to buy, more airships touched down and prepared to set up their own stands.

It was in crowds like these that little Alfred made his living. The small blond seven year old boy darted in and out of bunches of people like a loose ball bearing, looking like a sweet and innocent child while stealthily parting people from their valuables. He had been fending for himself for a long time and he had become quite good at what he did. His lively blue eyes scrutinized the masses with skill, picking out bulging pockets, filled purses, and the lumps of watches. Like everyone else, he loved trader day too, because that was the day people careless with their money and lose with their goods.

Alfred's eyes locked on an individual; an elderly woman near a fruit stand. He smiled a bit. Old ladies were hard to pickpocket, but swindling them was easy. A good sob story and a cute face and they were putty in your hands. He made sure that he had his lucky coin, a coin he had found on the street that someone had drawn googly eyes and a mustache on, tucked firmly in his pocket and then headed over toward his target.

He strolled up to the stand and stopped, watching a transaction take place with hands in his pockets. The old woman smiled kindly but Alfred just looked back at her, or more accurately, at the fruit moving from the stand, to her hand, to her bag. Eventually Alfred spoke.

"Those sure look good, miss." He said, pretending to look shyly at his feet. "I bet it tastes good too."

The woman smiled at him once again and nodded, "yes, it does indeed look good and taste good. The fresh fruit is the highlight of my year."

Alfred smiled back at her, "My momma once told me that fruit was really good for you. She said it keeps you healthy and strong."

The woman smiled again, and Alfred was sure she was thinking just how cute he was, which was exactly what he wanted. "Well your mother is correct. You must be a clever boy to remember something so important." And Alfred smiled again, "Maybe your mother would be willing to buy an apple or something if you asked her nicely."

Perfect. This was exactly the response he needed. Slowly, he let his smile fall and he looked back at the growing again. "No miss." He said, speaking more quietly than before.

This confused the woman, "Pardon?"

"No, Miss. Momma isn't gonna buy me anything. I don't have momma anymore." This wasn't a lie. His mother really had passed away, leaving him to fend for himself and a younger brother who was constantly sick, but he had long since stopped crying over being an orphan and, instead focused his energy on making sure he and his brother survived. He did, however, use their tragic past to his advantage, like right now.

The woman stopped smiling and put a hand to her lips. "Oh... Oh my dear... Surely, you don't mean... But what about your father?" And Alfred shook his head.

"No father, Miss. Just me and my brother now."

"Well how old is your brother?"

"Seven, same as me." And he held up seven fingers to illustrate.

"Oh heavens, you poor dears. How do you survive." She asked, unknowingly falling right into the sly boys trap.

"Well we do okay. Sometimes people are nice and give us stuff. Other times we find what people threw away without finishing. I really like it when the traders come because people throw away more food so it's easier to find."

The woman stared at him, obviously horrified at the idea of two children eating scraps from the garbage. "My goodness..." Without another moment's hesitation she pulled two apples from her bag and handed them to him. "Here, for you and your brother." And he took the fruit, smiling sweetly.

"Really, Miss? Thank you! Thank you a million times Miss!" And he turned and began running off.

The woman looked after him, a bit taken aback by his sudden departure, "Oh, wait, wouldn't you like more?" She called after him, but he just shook his head and called back a quick, "No thank you!" He had learned the hard way not to push his luck and more fruit would have made him conspicuous and clumsy. Nah, just two apples were good and he could get more later.

Once a reasonable distance from the kindly old woman, Alfred shoved one of the apples into his pocket, causing it to bulge out of shape. He didn't pay much mind to this and went back to strolling around the streets, crunching away at the second apple happily. It tasted extra sweet after the period of scarcity their food stores had just gone through, and he was considering going back to his brother, seeing as how he had managed to get a good haul this time around, but something made him pause.

Gold. It swung in the form of a watch chain, most likely hooked to an equally golden watch, glittering in the sun like a friend beckoning him closer. It hung unprotected from the trouser pocket of a rather grumpy looking fellow with huge bushy eyebrows, tousled blond hair, and an eye patch. His sense of sight was probably a touch substandard with that injury, and he could find himself at a disadvantage, should he have to pursue someone.

Alfred bit his tongue, eyes locked on the treasure. He usually knew his bounds, but the sight of that glimmering chain spoke right to the childish greed that any seven year old would find near irresistible. It wouldn't hurt to have a bit extra, and he could easily outrun the handicapped owner. Alfred made his choice.

He set off at a run, glancing behind him like a child who was playing tag and searching for his pursuer. He had done this many times. With a slight 'oof' he ran right into the man with the eye patch. Many things took place in these few seconds. The moment his small body made contact with the other's much larger body, Alfred had his fingers wrapped around the much desired chain. He pulled away and looked up at the man innocently, tugging the watch from it's pocket undetected.

"Oh, sorry mister." He said quickly, and then he side stepped and went around the man before another word could be said, his prize in his fist.

Alfred grinned. It had been just as easy as he had expected. Victoriously, he brought the watch up to look at it. It certainly was a handsome watch; gold with silver numbering, and a clear face so all the clockwork could be seen as it spun and ticked away. He wondered how much he could get for this piece. A lot, he had no doubt about that. He was so busy admiring his prize that he didn't see trouble coming until it was too late.

A hand clapped its self down onto Alfred's shoulder, making the pickpocket freeze. This was not good. He swallowed hard and slowly looked around at the owner of the hand. It was the man with the eye patch, the owner of the watch that sat guiltily in Alfred's hands. Alfred's blue eyes hesitantly met the lone green eye of the man.

"Excuse me. I believe you have something of mine and I would very much like it back." The man's face and voice were both unreadable. Was he angry? Alfred was sure he had to be. No one wasn't angry at someone who stole from them. Alfred knew what this man was going to do. He had seen it happen to countless other pickpockets. This man was going to take back his watch and drag Alfred to the police, and then he would be arrested for stealing and thrown in jail. He didn't want to go to jail! He couldn't! He had to take care of Matthew! He had promised his mother he would! No, he couldn't go to jail! So Alfred did the only thing he could think of; he yanked himself from the man's grasp an ran as fast as he could.

Alfred wove through the throng of people, hand still clamped firmly around the stolen watch. He just had to lose the guy. Alfred was confident that he could do that; he was small and agile, while the one eyed man was big and awkward. When he felt safe, he looked back. His feeling of safety was shattered instantly. The man was still on his tail, no, he was gaining on him! The man pushed through people like they weren't there and kept his one eye locked on the little thief. Alfred turned around and put on an extra burst of speed. How could the much larger man be so dexterous? He waded through the crowd with such ease it was almost like a dance. In a slight panic, Alfred began shouting.

"Help! Help! Someone, help me! Don't let him get me!"

People turned to look at the chase, and one or two stepped up to try and help. A couple of strong looking men stepped in front of Alfred's pursuer and waylaid him, giving Alfred the chance he needed. He rounded a corner and sped off toward the ship yard.

The man with the eye patch finally managed to get away from the two who held him back, hitting a point in their necks quickly and causing them to crumple like paper dolls to the ground. No one else approached him. The people simply watched him with shock and fright as he went on his way once more. The man cursed under his breath, the two interlopers had caused him to lose track of the boy. As he got away from the more crowded streets he sighed. It really couldn't be helped then. It was such a hassle but he was determined to find the boy. He slowed to a trot and began removing the cover over his other eye.

Alfred too had slowed down by this point. He had gotten away, there was no possible way for the man to track him down now. He had ducked through back allies and doubled back on dead end roads, even going so far as to crawl through the damaged walls of an abandoned building. This last little detour had caused him some trouble when his pants had gotten snagged on a rusty pipe and he had had to struggle to get unstuck, accidentally putting a tear in his pants as he finally pulled free.

Alfred jogged and let his gaze slide around to take in his surroundings. He was in the ship yard, a somewhat shady place where the airships were docked after long journeys. He took in the piles of crates and tangles of ropes littered about the platform and left there by lazy crewmen, the peeling posters advertising pubs and inns, and the landing stations for the ships, which were rectangular sections cut from the platform with two metal plates on each side that, when the underlying pistons came to life, would clamp onto the central fin on the bottom of the ships and keep them from tipping over or moving when they weren't supposed to.

Alfred looked around. The docks seemed to be deserted but for another airship that would be coming in to land soon. He smiled slightly, he wasn't too far from the place he and Matthew called home. He could get back and have a great tale of adventure to tell his brother. The thought made Alfred smile even more.

Unfortunately, Alfred's pants weren't nearly as happy as he was. The trousers were already worn and old, beaten and abused during Alfred's many excursions. This last adventure had done the battered pair of clothing in and they finally gave up the ghost. Alfred's jogging had widened the hole his pants had obtained from the incident with the pipe and the hole just happened to be right on the pocket. Once the hole was large enough, the contents of the pocket (that being the remaining apple and Alfred's lucky coin) slipped right out. The coin hit the pavement and skittered away out of sight, leaving its owner none the wiser to its absence. The apple, however, did not part company with the pocket as discreetly. It was thrown forward a ways by Alfred's knee and was found by Alfred's unsuspecting foot. With a cry, Alfred felt his foot slide out from under him and he went down, bellyflopping onto the hard ground. He lost his grip on the watch and it skidded away from him, sliding across the ground and dropping with almost absurd accuracy into a hole in one of the metal panels of a a waiting landing station.

Alfred just lay there for a time, winded from his fall. Slowly he got to his feet and walked toward the landing station. He had seen where the watch had fallen and, once close enough, he could see it through the hole. It was sitting on the surface behind the panel, nestled between the pistons. Alfred looked around again. Still no one in sight. Alfred had gone through too much to simply abandon his treasure here. He rolled up his grubby sleeves and got onto the ground, laying flat on his stomach to look into the hole. Once he had the watch in his sights he reached out and slipped his small hand into the opening.

It was a close fit and it took quite a bit of force to get his hand into that hole, but once in, the task before him seemed easy. He felt around, feeling the pistons an the other metal bits that made the device work. Then his hand brushed against something small and flatish, something that moved slightly when his hand bumped it. Alfred smiled and closed his hand around the object. The watch was back in his grasp.

A sound made Alfred crane his neck and look up. The airship from before. He had forgotten about that. Alfred decided that it would be in his best interest to get away from the slowly descending zeppelin, so he pulled his hand from the hole... Or he tried to. The hole wasn't big enough. It had only just let his hand go in, but it was now no where near large enough to let him out. Alfred felt a jolt of panic shoot through him. He pulled, trying to force his hand out of the hole, but nothing happened. He pulled again, accidentally dropping the watch, but he no longer cared about that. He had to get his hand free! But no amount of twisting or pulling would free him.

The airship was getting lower every second, sinking closer to the struggling boy like a shoe coming down on a lone ant. He was going to be squashed! Alfred, chest heaving an pulse racing, stopped struggling to watch the slow descent of his doom. His eyes lingered on the blade like central fin. It was the closest part of the ship to him and it bore down on his outstretched arm like a butchers knife. To Alfred, time and space seemed to warp.

The first thing to register was pain. Alfred screamed as sharp fin bit into his arm just below the shoulder. He screamed as pain like he had never felt coursed through him, lighting up every nerve in his body. Then came the blood. The fin was sliding through his arm like butter and the warm red fluids began to course out of him. The bone snapped and Alfred's screams increased in volume. Then the fin completed the cut and Alfred's body acted of its own accord, throwing him out from underneath the looming hull of the landing ship. Alfred rolled and came to rest on his back, ten feet from the landing station where the pistons kicked in and the plates closed around the fin, Alfred's arm pressed between them.

The boy lay there, trembling as his blood began to pool around him. Shakily, he turned his head to look at the bleeding mess that had once been the residence of his arm. He gasped and shook, shock keeping him from doing anything else. This was it. He was going to die here, alone. No one would know what happened to him. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die.

Then a pair of brown work shoes stopped beside him, making the mortally injured child look and them and then follow the legs upward. His unsteady vision allowed him to discern a green eye, high above him, and the black shape of an eye patch, all located beneath two large dark eyebrows and a mess of blond hair. It was him. It was the eye patch man.

This man, though Alfred didn't know it, had seen the whole thing. Having tracked the boy down, he had been watching since he had fallen and lost the watch. Now there he stood, looking down at the pitiful figure that slowly bled out on the hard ground. Without a word, the man knelt down and removed his coat and pulled a small pocket knife from his pocket. He used the knife to cut notches into the coat and then used his teeth the tear the coat into strips. From there, he began wrapping what remained of Alfred's arm.

"You know," he said quietly, English accent coming off crisp and clear, "Back in the old days, it was a common practice in some countries to cut off a hand as punishment for stealing. I suppose you paid plus interest." Alfred just continued to shake, staring up at the mans face. Of all people, why was this the person who was helping him?

The man with the eye patch tied his makeshift bandages tightly and lifted Alfred into his arms. "Perhaps," he said as he began walking with the boy, "This will teach you to be more cautious." There was no pity in his voice, no sadness or empathy for the child in his arms. He spoke as if Alfred had nothing more than a scraped knee. Alfred was in no condition to respond to his words. As he slowly slid into the blackness, his last thought was, 'What's going to happen to me?'

The man felt the boy go limp like a rag doll and sighed. This child was strong, he'd have to give him that. To still be awake after losing that much blood was a feat that would have been impressive for an adult, and unheard of for a boy of his age.

"I swear, if you die after building my expectations of you up so high I will be quite cross with you." He muttered to the unconscious form.

Alfred slept for days before consciousness began returning to him. The first thing he was aware of was a dull throbbing on his right side. He didn't open his eyes just then, and instead let his other senses tell him about his surroundings. He was on something soft and warm, with his head resting slightly elevated on something soft as well. There was a soft breeze swishing peacefully across his face and he could hear the sounds of a street that was just waking up. Morning greetings and creaking wheels, machines warming up and doors slamming. Wherever he was, it must be early. The smell of fresh bread drifted to his nose, carried on the breeze in a way that taunted his empty stomach. '_Am I dead?_' He asked himself. He had never felt anything quite as soft as what he was laying on right then, and he had also never felt so weak. 'That must be it. I died and now I've gone to heaven.' Then the clink of china against china somewhere close made him pause. Someone was in the room with him. '_...mommy_?' Alfred slowly opened his eyes.

He was laying on a bed, which would explain the softness, and there was a sheet pulled up to his middle. He slowly turned his head and saw an open window that looked out onto a sleepy street. And there was someone sitting by the window as well, drinking from a teacup and looking out onto the world outside. But the person wasn't Alfred's mother.

At the sound of movement from the bed the person turned to face Alfred. "So you've finally decided to wake up." Came a voice with a stiff English accent. It was the man with the eye patch.

The man stood and set the teacup on the bedside table. "Well then, don't just lie there like a dead fish, say something. Tell me how you're feeling."

Alfred blinked, not exactly sure how he felt about having this person standing at his bedside. "...bad..." He said simply. The man scoffed,

"_'Bad'_? A one word answer? And you chose '_bad_' to describe your state of being?" He sighed, "Well, fine. And yes, I suppose you would feel '_bad'_ after everything you had just been through. Losing one's arm is no picnic."

At these words, Alfred's eyes grew wide. He sat up suddenly, ignoring the feelings of nausea and vertigo as he looked to his right. His stomach turned at what he saw. There was his shoulder, but that was as far as it went. His arm was gone. It simply wasn't there. There was a good amount of bandages and a small stump, but no arm. Alfred felt like he was going to vomit. The world spun sickeningly and he felt light headed.

"Easy there, lad." The man said, reaching out to steady Alfred. "I've worked long and hard to keep you alive, so don't you go wasting it all by killing yourself by falling off the bed. Now calm down."

Calm down? His arm was gone and he was telling him to calm down? Alfred turned to look back at the man, "Where am I?" He asked.

"You are in my home and workshop." The man answered. "And in my bed, for good measure. You've been here since I brought you here from the dock after that airship took your arm off. It was quite good of me to save you, you know. Especially after you steal and lose my favorite watch. I believe a thank you is in order, however, seeing as how you have just woken up, I'll let you do it later."

Alfred just looked at him. Then a loud gurgling growl emitted from within the boy, completely audible to the man who stood beside him. His stomach wanted food. Before Alfred could voice this, the man turned and left the room, leaving Alfred a bit perplexed. He returned a short time later with a plate of... Something.

"Here." He said, returning to the bedside and holding the plate out to Alfred. "You must be hungry. Eat up."

Hesitantly, Alfred took the plate and put it on his lap. There was a fork sitting on the edge so he picked it up clumsily in his left hand and used it to scoop up a bite of the blackish yellow lumps. He didn't eat it though.

"What... What _is_ this?" He asked.

"Eggs. Scrambled eggs. I made them myself so dig in."

Alfred had never had scrambled eggs before, but he was rather sure that they weren't supposed to look like this. But he was hungry, and the man was watching him expectantly, so he gingerly transferred the forkful of egg to his mouth and chewed.

He frowned. It tasted a bit like charcoal and dirt, but it was edible and it didn't take long for him to clean the plate, even if a lot of it had spilled onto the sheets because of his clumsy handling. It would take some time to learn how to use his left hand. When he looked back up at the man, he noticed that he looked much less grumpy now that he had eaten the food.

"Would you like some more?" He asked, tone much less formal and cold. Alfred had never been hungrier than he was right then. Despite the rather odd taste of the food he nodded and quietly said, "Yes, please."

The man actually smiled a little, and it did wonders for his face. His visible eye twinkled kindly and his features softened to something more human. For the first time since waking up, Alfred felt at ease around the other. Something about that smile and that eye told him that this was a man who wouldn't hurt him, a man he could trust.

"Alright." The man said, taking the plate. "I would be hungry too if I had been asleep for three days, I suppose. I'll be ri-" but he was caught off guard by Alfred's expression of horror. "W-what, what's the matter, child?"

Three days? He had been asleep for three days? In one sudden movement, Alfred kicked off the sheets and stumbled out of bed, shocking the Brit with his urgency. Before the man could react, Alfred was speeding out the bedroom door. It was strange to be running with only one arm. It made him feel a bit lopsided, but he ignored this and kept running, through the kitchen, through the living room, and down the first flight of stairs he saw. He found himself standing in a workshop. Behind a main counter there were several workbenches, each seeming to contain the pieces of different projects. Tools hung on the walls as well as sat in tool boxes on the floor. If he weren't in such a hurry, Alfred would have loved to take a closer look at everything. But he had somewhere he had to go so without another moment's hesitation, he dashed around the main counter to the front of the shop and out the door.

The man hesitated a moment and then went after the boy. Something he had said had gotten the child worked up for some reason. What on earth was going on. He went down the stairs and arrived in the workshop just in time to see the blond boy run out the front door. The man's eye narrowed. What did he think he was doing? Running off alone in public with nothing on but his bandages and a pair of knickers. That wouldn't do at all. He followed the boy out into the street, making sure the the sign beside the front door that read, 'Kirkland mechanized goods and prosthetics' had the 'closed' plaque showing before starting his search. But now Alfred was nowhere to be seen. The man growled, how far could a one armed child get? And yet he had lost sight of him already. He sighed through his nose and began untying his eye patch again. Honestly, this was twice in less than four days that he would have to resort to his secret method to find the slippery child.

As the man was removing his eye patch, Alfred was dashing down the street, looking for a sign or something to tell him where he was. He had to get back. He turned down roads, looking for anything he recognized. He stopped a moment, ignoring the weird looks he was getting from the early morning drifters who really weren't expecting to see a one armed child in his underpants, running like he had the devil on his tail. He knew this place. This was tailor's turn back, which was only three blocks down from constitution street, where he and his brother resided. He was close. Despite how tired he was by then, despite how his head pounded, he started running again. He was so close, he could make it.

He ran the three blocks and turned down a side street. He stopped at last to catch his breath, doubled over between two buildings; a bookshop and a dilapidated old abandoned warehouse. He was there, he had found the place. Alfred now walked slowly along the wall, allowing his heart beat to return to normal. From his position, he could see the rusting sheet of scrap metal that acted as a door to the place he lived with his brother. It wasn't a house by any means, being only a hole in the wall of the warehouse, just big enough for two children to sleep comfortably (If one could call sleeping on the ground comfortable), but to Alfred, it was home. He would have to think of someway to apologize to Mattie. His brother was probably really hungry after a three day absence from Alfred, who was the sole breadwinner at that time. Alfred smiled as he used his left hand to push away the metal sheet, ready to tell Matthew all about the adventure he had just had...

There was no one there.

The hole was empty. Matthew wasn't there. Alfred's smile fell, this didn't make sense. Matthew was sick, he never left the hole. Never. That was why Alfred always brought him food and did the pickpocketing, because Matthew wasn't strong enough to help with that. But he was gone.

"Mattie?" Alfred called, wondering if maybe he was in there but he just couldn't see him. "Mattie, where are you? I came home..." No reply. Alfred swallowed back his mounting panic as he ducked into the hole and crawled over to the pile of rags and scraps of fabric where his brother usually resided. He dug through pile of textile in a childish hope that Matthew was hiding beneath them. Of course, he was doing no such thing.

"Matthew?!" He called, more frantically than before. "Matthew, Where are you?!" He backed back into the alleyway and headed back toward the street at a brisk walk, not even bothering to pull the 'door' back into place. He had to find Matthew, there was no time to waste!

"Matthew!?" He called out on the street, checking every nook and cranny where his brother could possibly be. Matthew couldn't have gotten far, his condition would surely prevent that. Maybe, after Alfred failed to come home, hunger had finally gotten the better of the younger twin and he had set off to find food. That made sense. Yes. Matthew had to be around the next corner.

Nope.

Behind a garbage dumpster!

Nuh-uh.

Hiding in the gutter?

Empty.

By this point, Alfred was really panicking. Something must have happened to his brother, something must have happened to cause the constantly ill Matthew to leave the hole, or, possibly even worse, someone came along and took him from the hole. Either way, Matthew as gone, and Alfred's panic had reached it's peak. He was so wound up that when a hand was placed on his shoulder he spun around, ready to beat the person who he was sure was going to take him away too.

Then he stopped. It was the eyepatch man once again. He was looking a bit irritated as he re-tied his eyepatch behind his head. Had it fallen off?

"Honestly," the man huffed, finishing the knot and folding his arms as he looked at the boy, "You seem to like running from me. What was that about? What has got you..." He trailed off. Alfred had suddenly burst into tears. Alfred was strong, yes. He was tough and clever and bold. But he was also only seven years old, and he was scared. The inventor raised his eyebrows. "What on earth has gotten into you, boy?"

Alfred sat on the ground and brought his knees to his chest before burying his face in them. "H-he's gone. Matthew's gone. I-I don't understand... where could he have gone? What's happened to him?"

The one eyed man tilted his head, looking down at the boy. "Who's Matthew and why are you blubbering about him?"

"My brother." Alfred said into his knees. "He's gone. I was supposed to take care of him. But now he's gone. He's gone and I can't find him." He sniffed loudly, sucking the snot from his running nose back up while also making the man flinch a bit. He found all children mildly revolting and Alfred was no different. "I... I promised." Alfred went on, not exactly talking to the man but speaking with the knowledge he was listening. "I promised Mommy I'd protect him. I promised."

The man snorted suddenly, making Alfred look up. "That's foolish. Why, for God's sake, would you make such a ridiculous promise?"

Alfred looked up, stung by the insensitivity of the other. "W-what? What do you-?"

"You know," The man began, cutting Alfred off. "Humans are stupid creatures in many ways. Really, you can't promise anything on them. They all have minds of their own, they don't care if you made a promise, they'll go and do something unexpected. They are unpredictable. Machines, now there's something you can always count on. A machine will not surprise you. It will do exactly what you make it to do until the day it breaks." he paused, eye still on Alfred before he went on. "However, machines will always do the same thing in the same situation. When taken out of its usual circle, it becomes useless. But humans are different. A human can be dropped into something completely unfamiliar and alien, and they can thrive. Humans can adapt and change. I have yet to build a machine that can adapt like a human."

Alfred had stopped crying, completely focused on the man's words. He had a feeling that the other was trying to make him feel better, but he couldn't quite figure out how the speech related. The man, sensing Alfred's confusion, spoke again.

"I am sure your brother will be fine. You'd be surprised what a human can manage."

"But, Matthew's sick. What if-"

"He'll survive. I'm sure of that. If this brother of yours is half as clever and half as strong as you are, you who survived having a part of you lopped off, then I wouldn't be surprised if Matthew thrived somehow."

Alfred hesitated, letting the man's words sink in. Matthew would be okay. That's what he wanted to believe, what he wished to be true. So, like a child, he made no more arguments. He had heard what he wanted to hear. "...okay. I hope so."

"Good lad. Now come on. I still have eggs back at my home that are waiting to be eaten. You will be staying with me, I assume." From the way he said it, there was obviously no question about it. Alfred slowly got to his feet and together, the two of them began the walk back to the workshop.

"... Will I ever see Matthew again?" Alfred asked after a period of silence.

"Oh I'm sure you will." The man said, and he seemed to scowl. "People from your past seem to have a habit of turning up again like a bad penny."

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_**Here you are! As promised, here is chapter 2, posted less than 24 hours after chapter one, and at least four times as long. I had finished 1 a while ago, but I do all my typing on my Nexus 7 tablet, so it was just sitting there until I could get it onto my laptop. As for chapter 2, I finished it last night, just before posting 1, and I was typing at the library all day today so chapter 3 is almost half done. But I don't know if any of you actually care about my schedule, so I'll move on.**_

_**Oh, where to begin? Well first, I'd like to say that at on point, I didn't know if that one part with Alfred's arm would make things too graphic to be considered K+, but I made it short while remaining descriptive so it should be okay. **_

_**Then, I keep calling Arthur 'The man' and such because Alfred doesn't know his name just yet, but that will be resolved soon.**_

_**I actually don't have too much to say about this chapter. It took a while to write but I like how it turned out and I hope you do to.**_

_**Still looking for a cover art volunteer. If you want to try then drop me a line.**_

_**Please review! I went over this a billion times but there are probably still some typos that my editors and I missed. If you find one, inform me politely. I would also love to hear your thoughts! Is the story living up to expectations? I hope so. Let me know how I'm doing by leaving a review.**_

_**I plan on updating this pretty regularly, so follow to stay on top of my posts.**_

_**Lastly,I listen to music as I write so I'll post some of the song titles that might interest you. Thank you!**_

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**CHAPTER MUSIC LIST:**

**Dark and Twisty Road** - _Abney Park_

**She**- _Abney Park_

**The Maple Leaf Rag -**_Scott Joplin_

**Sad Songs and Waltzes -** _Cake_

**Engrish Bwudd -**_Man Man_


	3. Connection of the Broken

**Hello. I actually had this finished more than a week ago but I haven't posted it until now for two reasons. 1.) I've been waiting for my read and review team to get back to me about this chapter, and 2.) I have been way lazy. but it's up now and the next is coming soon. Thank you for reading, please enjoy.**

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Matthew had awoken that morning to the usual clatter of Alfred's regular start of the day routine. His brother was not a morning person, and not quiet, which meant that when he woke up, so did Matthew. Alfred was rubbing his eyes and digging through his makeshift bed for one of his shoes, which had fallen off while he was sleeping.

Matthew sat up and Immediately began coughing. His condition was always the same; difficulty breathing, weakness, pale skin, and agitated throat. He never really got worse, but he also never seemed to get any better. Matthew wished many times that he could go out and help Alfred. He knew how much strain he put on Alfred, who was saddled with the task of keeping both of them alive. Matt didn't like it, but it was just one of the facts of their existence.

Alfred looked around at the sound of his twin's coughing, and quickly moved to his bed side.

"Jeeze, Mattie, keep it down or someone will hear you and think we're rats or something." He joked, making Matthew smile embarrassedly. "Sorry Al." He said, as he always did. Alfred pushed a small bucket if water toward him and Matthew gratefully took a drink.

"Hey, Mattie," Alfred said, suddenly seeming excited, "guess what today is!" When Alfred had so much energy, it was usually something to do with food, so Matthew guessed, "Um... The bakery's dumping day?"

"Nope!" Alfred said, simply beaming. "It's the start of trader week! There's gonna be a lot of people out and about today, which means a lot of stuff to grab!" Matthew smiled, he couldn't help it, Alfred's enthusiasm tended to be contagious. "So lots of food too, then." "Yup! We can get a pretty good stock going today if I can manage to nab enough stuff. Then we won't be hungry again for a while!" That would be nice.

Alfred went back to his bed and, after practically gutting the pile of fabric, finally managed to locate his shoe. "Jeeze, how did it end up here?" He wondered, pulling it on. "It sank all the way to the bottom. Ah well, at least I found it."

"Yeah." Matthew agreed. "Be glad you didn't lose anything smaller, like your lucky coin." Matthew knew all about Alfred's silly coin. He had found it in a gutter one day and insisted that it was lucky. Matthew never argued with him about it, because he knew he wouldn't win. When Alfred got an idea in his head nothing could change his mind.

Alfred instinctively checked his pocket and pulled out the little metal disk with the doodles on it. "Yep! It's right here!" He confirmed before slipping it back into his pocket. "You still got Mommy's necklace?" And Matthew nodded. From under his shirt he pulled a small silver oval hanging from a thin chain around his neck. It was always there, but they still checked every morning. It was the only thing they had left of their mother; an oval that opened up to reveal a picture of a pretty woman and a handsome man. The pictures were old and the lady wasn't their mother, they had no idea who the people were, but it was their mothers so they cherished it.

"Good." Alfred said, watching Matthew tuck it back under his shirt. "Mommy wouldn't like it if we lost it." "Yeah, I know." Matthew said.

They had no breakfast to eat right then so they just talked for a while to distract from the hunger. Eventually, when the sounds of people on the street reached them, Alfred pushed the metal aside and crawled out of the hole. "Alright, Mattie," He said, looking in at his brother, "I'll be back with dinner for tonight. I promise."

Alfred began to turn but Matthew called him back. "Hold on, Al!" When Alfred looked in again, Matthew asked a question. "Can I come and help you today? Just for a bit? It gets boring and lonely in here. Can't I go out with you?" He asked the same thing almost every time Alfred went out to work, and every time the answer was the same.

"No way, Mattie. You're just gonna get killed out here. The world is meant for tough people like me! So just stay here and let me be your hero!" And he ran off, pushing the metal sheet back in front of the hole before he went.

Matthew sighed and fumbled around for the matches and the single candle (he would have to ask Alfred to get some more.) The truth was that Alfred really was his hero. He knew how hard it must be on Alfred to have to go out and provide for both of them. It couldn't be fun to have that kind if weight on his shoulders. But still, he went on, taking it all in stride. And he always smiled. Matthew loved how Alfred would crack jokes and tease, even when times got hard, when it got cold in winter, or when they ran out of food. And he knew that Alfred did this for his sake, because sometimes, late at night when Alfred thought he was asleep, he would hear Alfred cry, and apologize for being a failure. It really was a lot to put on a boy of seven, and yet Alfred bore it without complaint. He was the bravest person in the world. Matthew had no doubt about that.

He struck the match and lit the candle to give himself some light. Alfred had stolen him some books but he had read all of the ones he could read, while a majority of the others were far too difficult for a boy as young as he was. Instead of reading, he resorted to his favorite activities, one he did quite a lot. He took out the locket again and opened it up, looking at the pictures closely, examining the faces of the people intently. Who could they be?

"... Once upon a time," he said to the empty place, "a beautiful woman lived in the city." And just like that he began building a story, writing out in his head who these two mysterious people could be. "She was really beautiful, and nice too. Her name was..." He thought for a time.

"... Her name was Ella. She loved animals, so she was sad that there weren't very many animals where she was." He put a bit of himself into her. He too loved animals, even though he hadn't seen many except for some pictures in books.

"She made a decision one day and ran away from her home. Oh! And her parents were very mean and wouldn't let her go outside." He paused again, letting his seven year old imagination build the tale.

"She ran for a long time, looking for animals. She got onto a ship and flew to another city, but there weren't any animals there, so she flew to a different city but the same thing happened. She kept going to different places, hoping to find some but it was hard. But then, Ella met a man named... Um... Fred... Okay. Fred was an adventure, and he had been everywhere. He had seen every city there was, and he had even down on earth. They met by his ship and they fell in love. Ella asked Fred if he knew where animals were..." He yawned, this was making him tired but he was liking his story so far.

"And Fred said that he did. He said they were far away and hard to find, but he had seen them. So he told Ella he would take her to them,because he loved her...and stuff... And... And so they got onto Fred's ship and they sailed for a very long time..." His eyes closed.

"um... They went very far and then they found a floating city...but... It wasn't a floating city... It was actually... Um... Actually an animal place... With grass and... Stuff..." The sleep finally won him over and though his voice stopped narrating, his dreams continued the story.

The protests of his empty stomach brought him back to consciousness. He blinked into the darkness, slowly becoming aware and shaking off the trance that freshly broken sleep always seemed to leave behind. The candle had burnt down while he was dreaming. He must have been asleep for hours. This wasn't unusual for him, he didn't have anything much better to do. He sat up very slowly and rubbed his eyes.

"Alfred? Why didn't you wake me up? Do you have anything to eat now?" But no answer came from the darkness. This woke Matthew up a bit more. He looked around again, eyes adjusting to the dark. "Alfred?"

Matthew crawled out of his bed and moved toward Alfred's. Had he already gone to sleep? But when he got to the messy pile of rags across from his, it was empty, laying just the way his brother had left it that morning. He hadn't been back since. Matthew was getting worried, Alfred was never gone this long, not without telling Matthew first. Something must have happened.

He was perfectly ready to push the metal door away from the entrance to go find him, but he stopped. He could be hiding, his mind reasoned. Maybe he had gotten caught while pickpocketing and had had to hide somewhere while they were looking for him. That was probably it. He would be back tomorrow morning and he would brag to Matthew about his adventures. Yeah. There was no reason to go search for him yet. Alfred would just be mad at him for endangering himself. He would be back tomorrow. He had to be.

After telling himself this a few times he managed to calm down. He would just wait for Alfred like he was supposed to.

It was a very long night for the lone twin. He had slept the whole day away so he wasn't ready to go to bed. The candle was also used up, so he was forced to lie alone in the darkness for hours until he once again drifted off

Morning came and Matthew awoke. Still no Alfred. The worry was back. This really wasn't natural. Something had to be up. But still, he waited, just in the off chance that Alfred was coming back. But by noon, he had given up hope of that. Alfred would never be gone this long without telling him, and he certainly wouldn't leave his brother to go hungry like this. More than a day and a half with no food. Alfred wouldn't do this to him. Not voluntarily. Something must have happened to him. Which meant... Matthew was on his own.

For a while, this idea terrified him. How was he going to eat? And get fresh water? There was no one to take care of him. '_Wow_.' Said a voice in his head. '_When did I get so selfish? Alfred's out there somewhere while I just sit here worrying about my self_.' That was right. Alfred had always given his all for him, no matter what. Even if he was sick, that didn't mean he couldn't do anything. Self pity and fear turned to courage and determination as he reminded himself of what Alfred was to him. They were brothers. Alfred had taken care of him everyday, now it was his turn.

Before his newfound bravery could leave him, Matthew pushed the door aside and crawled into the outside world. He put the sheet metal back, just as Alfred did whenever he left, and walked slowly for the street.

It was noon, so the constitution street was crouded with people eager to get their lunch. Matthew swallowed and then walked straight into the crowd. There were so many people around him going in so many different directions at once that it quickly confused and overwhelmed the boy. He had only just started out on his journey and he was already getting lost as the throng pulled him along with them to unknown destinations.

It took a long time for him to get free of the tide of people and he stumbled to the side of the street as a bout of coughing overtook him. He doubled over and hacked violently until the fit settled down again. He straightened and looked at his surroundings. This was no longer Constitution street. It was much wider and there even more people then before, most of them crouding around booths and stands. He didn't exactly know where he was, but he knew enough from what Alfred had told him that this was the trader market, the one that popped up every year. No wonder it was so crowded. Despite his worries about his twin, he was still amazed by the market. This was his first time seeing it, his first time seeing a lot of things, actually. He hardly ever got to leave the hole. With a growing sense of awe he began to walk around.

He started getting better at slipping between people and avoiding being carried by the current. He looked at everything as if he'd never get to see it again, which would probably end up being the case. If- no, when he found Alfred, he would probably go right back to life in the hole. But that didn't matter. What mattered was Alfred. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice where he was going until he ran right into someone.

Matthew stumbled back and began to apologize, but he was cut off by a voice crying out, "Oh it's you again!"

Before him stood an elderly woman with a bag over her arm. She smiled at him like she had seen him somewhere before. Then she spoke again.

"Did you enjoy the apples, dear?" She asked thoroughly baffeling Matthew. He had no idea what this lady was talking about, but before he could make that known she was talking again, oblivious to his confusion. "I really hope they were of use to you and that poor brother of yours, but you know, you did only take two before you went running off , and then of course, there was that awful man who was chasing you toward the ship yard. I'm glad that you're alright. But you really should have taken more food, why, you're even paler than I remember you being yesterday!"

By now, Matthew was able to assume she had met Alfred and was mistaking him for his brother. "Um... Miss, I think you mis-" then what she had said sank in. "... Chased to the ship yards?"

"Yes indeed. You poor dear, you must have been terrified." She shook her head, "Honestly, who chases children like that? But you know, I knew he was no good from the moment I saw him, with that obscene eye patch and what not. I'm very glad you got away from the brute."

Matthew's head spun with this newly obtained information. Chased by a man with an eye patch to the ship yards. So Alfred really was in trouble! What if he didn't get away at all? What if this man with the eye patch had gotten him and was doing bad things to him? What if-... Suddenly, he had a bunch of bananas and two apples shoved into his arms by the old woman, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"W-what?"

"Oh don't worry about it dear." Said the woman, smiling sweetly at him. "Take all that back home for your brother and yourself. I'm sure you'll make good use of them." And then she started walking away, leaving Matthew standing exactly where he was, arms loaded with fruit and not quite sure why.

He looked down at the fruit. Well...She had given it to him...

He looked around and then quickly moved into a side street away from the crowds and sat down to eat. He couldn't figure out how to eat the bananas, they seemed rubbery and didn't taste very good when he bit through the yellow things, but he enjoyed the apples. He ate both of them, munching away at the crisp flesh until all that was left was the hard center. It was nice to finally have some food in him, but once he was done eating, his mind returned to Alfred. The weight of his worries came back as well. What could have become of his brother after being chased by the eye patch man?

He wouldn't know if he just sat there. It seemed that his best bet to find Alfred was to go to the ship yard. He stood up, leaving the uneaten bananas on the ground, and went back into the streets to follow his only lead.

It took him much longer than he had hoped to find the docks. He had become lost rather quickly and had had to ask for directions numerous times before he had finally made it to the place mentioned by the old lady. And then, when he finally arrived, he was not impressed by what he saw. The ship yard was a frightening place, with several shady looking sailors hanging about. Two were a ways apart from the rest and seemed to be mopping something up off the ground. As Matthew got closer, he began hearing their conversation. Quickly, he ducked behind some crates to hide. He didn't really know why he did it, just that that was what the characters in the books did when they were listening to someone talk. As he settled in, he saw something shiny at his feet. He bent down to pick it up as the sailors continued their chat.

"...kid. What did he think he was doing playing around here? It's dangerous, everyone knows that."

"Well I heard that someone was chasing him. Poor kid was probably scared."

"Yeah, scared of getting caught."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah. I heard the kid was running from this guy because he had stolen from him. Just goes to show ya, nothing good comes from a rotten kid. I say he got what he deserved."

"Oh come on, Charlie, he was just a lad. No kid deserves to have his arm ripped off like that, no matter what he was doing at the time. It's not like he knew any better, and he was so young too."

"Yeah, I s'pose you got a point."

"Little guy's probably dead as a door nail by now."

"I'd say so, what with this pool of blood we get to clean up. Oi, why is it our job anyway?"

"I don't know. Hey, what do you think happened to him?"

"Who?"

"You know, the kid. What do you suppose happened to him?"

"Oh, the mister with the eye patch carried him off. The one who was chasing him."

"What? You sure? What would he have done with him?"

"How should I know? All I heard was that eye patch took him, and to be honest, I think that's what happened."

"And why you say that?"

"C'mon. A blond man with one eye and a bleeding blond boy with one arm and chunk of hair that stands up right at the front of his forehead. That ain't exactly easy to miss."

"I guess you're right about that. Still, I feel bad for the kid. Such a short life and such a nasty way to go. Bleeding out on a cold dock and then taken by a stranger. No sir. Not nice."

"Yeah yeah. Come on, let's get out of here. We're finished and I need me a good booze down at Ratty Anne's."

"Alright. Then. That sounds like a good idea."

The two men men walked away, neither aware of a blond boy, much like the one they had been discussing, crouched behind the crates not ten feet from them.

Matthew was trembling uncontrollably, hand clenched around the shiny object he had seen earlier and eyes open wide. It couldn't be true. No. Not Alfred. He didn't want to believe it. Dead, they had said. Bleeding out? Arm ripped off? Taken by a stranger? It just couldn't be. But the one sailor had described him; blond with a cowlick right up front. That bit of hair never went down, ever. Matthew's breathing began coming in quick bursts as he slowly opened his hand and looked at the object he picked up. What he saw caused him enough distress to trigger one of his coughing fits.

It was a coin. A coin that had googly eyes and a mustache drawn on the face side. It was Alfred's lucky coin. This discovery cemented it. Alfred had been here. He wouldn't have just left his lucky coin behind unless something had happened. And what the sailors had said... That meant that Alfred was really gone.

As soon as his coughing subsided, Matthew took a deep breath and just fell apart. He let out a hopeless sob as he collapsed to his knees,clutching the coin to his heaving chest. Why? Why did everything have to be taken from him? What had Alfred done wrong? What had he done wrong? It wasn't fair! It wasn't right! It wasn't fair at all!

He switched back and forth between despairing tears and sobs and painful coughing that ripped his throat to shreds. But he didn't care anymore. He didn't care that he could hardly breathe and he felt light headed. Didn't care that his throat was on fire. Didn't care that he didn't even know how to get home. There was no more home. Not without his brother.

A shadow fell over the distraught boy and caused him to look up with red eyes and a swollen face. A blond man with his long hair tied back by a royal blue ribbon that matched his coat and vest stood over him, looking down at the somewhat pathetic figure. From the way he was dressed, he was obviously a high class and wealthy man. As he spoke, his words confused Matthew.

" _mon petit, pourquoi pleures-tu revenir ici dans un tel endroit?_"

Matthew didn't know what the man had said. It didn't sound like English. Then the man reached for Matthew, and Matthew would have none of it. He tried to scoot away from the man, wanting to get away, but his coughing forced him to stop. Now the man looked concerned, "Little one, are you unwell?" He asked in English, though with a heavy accent. Matthew didn't reply. He couldn't. His coughing seemed to worsen. Something red came out of his mouth, speckling the pavement and the man's expensive looking shoes.

"_Mon Dieu!_" The man exclaimed. "My child, you are very ill! You must see a doctor _Immédiatement!_"

Doctor? Matthew suddenly felt very tired and everything looked fuzzy. Doctor... His mind flashed back to something Alfred had said long ago.

_"I promise Mattie, one day I'll get enough money and I'll have a doctor come and he'll make you better. Then you can come have adventures with me. Won't that be great?"_

"...adventure..." He mumbled. Was someone touching him? "Adventure... With Alfred..." His eyes closed. It felt like he was being carried. "A- Alfred..."

"Malnourished." Came a voice from somewhere. Matthew's head field thick and heavy. Where was he? The voice spoke again.

"Weakened immune system as well. Possible feaver. It's quite a wonder he's made it this far. Most boys his age would have died if left alone in his condition."

"But he will be fine, non?" A different voice with a strong French accent. Matthew slowly opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by light. It was so bright. Were these candles?

Slowly, his eyes began to adjust and he was able to see the setting he had been placed in. He was laying on a gigantic bed, why, it had to be twice the size of the entire hole! And it was covered in embroidered blue sheets. The bed wasn't the only thing that was huge. As Matthew turned his head a bit he was able to see that the room the bed was in was also exceptionally large and grand in its décor. The walls were white and the floor seemed to be made of a high grade wood, and on the ceiling hung a silver chandelier with... Amazing. Those were bulbs! That must mean this room was lit by electric lights! He had only heard of them from Alfred, but apparently only the very wealthy could afford them.

His eyes continued to wander, but they came to rest on two figures talking near the far wall. Neither seemed to notice that the young boy had woken up and they continued with their conversation.

"He'll live." Said a man in a trench coat and carrying a bag with a red cross on it, in response to the earlier question. This was the owner of the first voice that Matthew had heard. Then the second man spoke, the one with the accent.

"Well that is good. Any suggestions?" Long blond hair, expensive clothes, Matthew felt he had seen this man somewhere, but no recollection came to him through the fog that filled his head.

"Just keep him indoors until he gets stronger. And he should avoid any straining work." Replied the first man. He must have been a doctor.

The man, who was indeed a doctor, headed out the door, saying, "You will receive the bill in a day or two."

"Merci. Your services are appreciated." Said the blond man, starting to close the door. "Safe travels."

The latch had barely clicked when a small cough made him look around. Sapphire blue eyes met weary violet ones and the man stepped away from the door to approach the bed.

"Ah, my child, you have returned to us." He said, smiling softly at the boy. "I feared the worst for a time after I found you at the docks. You simply went limp in my arms and haven't responded since. You've been sleeping for quite awhile, little one."

Matthew simply stared at him, and after a short pause the Frenchman smacked his own forehead with the palm of his hand, exclaiming "Ah! _Imbèciel_!" He shook his head, making his golden hair swing around like a supple cloth and went on. "I have been rude. Please forgive me for failing at a proper introduction."

To Matthew's slight amusement, the man took a step back and bowed gracefully. "I am Francis Jean Bonnefoy, the resident master of this estate. And you might be...?" He looked up at Matthew, back still bent in the bow.

"Matthew." He said. Being in such an unfamiliar place with a strange man probably should have made him nervous, or scared, but any uncertainty he had had prior had magically been wiped away with Mister Bonnefoy's elegant introduction. His rich voice and stately manner had easily put the young boy at ease.

"Matthew." He repeated back, and then he smiled again, "You know, in French I would call you 'Matieu'" This information made Matthew smile a bit.

"Well then, Matieu, do you have a family name?"

Matthew's brief smile fell into a neutral expression. He didn't respond this time, yet Mister Bonnefoy seemed to find an answer in his silence, because he nodded knowingly as his friendly smile transformed into a sympathetic look.

"I see." He said softly, "I expected as much. You are on your own, are you not?"

His words, though kind, hit Matthew with the force of a runaway caraige. On his own. Yes, he was wasn't he. He was truly on his own now. His father had been completely absent from his life, but he had still had his mother. Then his mother had died of illness, but even after that he had still had Alfred by his side. But now... Now what? Before he knew what had happened, his brother, the last of his family and his best friend, had been taken from him. Taken before his time. And now there was no one. Just Matthew.

The child began to tremble violently, unable to summon anymore tears in his current state of distress. Bonnefoy moved closer and took Matthew's hand in his own. "Mon petit, this must be very difficult for you. I understand. But you know," he looked Matthew right in the eyes and his gaze seemed welcoming and wise as he spoke his next line, "I have found that it is very bad for the spirit to keep something that would cause you so much unrest bottled up inside. Tell me about it. Tell me about everything. I will listen, so have no fear. Just tell me your sorrows." He pulled something from his pocket and placed it in the boys hand. It was a coin. Alfred's coin.

Matthew, who had never really spoken to anyone outside his little family, and had never shared his secrets with anyone but Alfred, couldn't hold back. He found himself telling his whole story, he couldn't stop it from coming and, frankly, he didn't even try. He told about his parents, about his mother's passing, about his twin brother's constant care, about his poor health, about the locket and the coin, and finally about Alfred's untimely demise. The whole time, Bonnefoy's eyes never left the little boy, and by the end his expression had changed again. It was no longer sympathy. It was empathy. Francis Bonnefoy was actually feeling the same pain as Matthew.

Silence. A quiet that was almost reverence. It seemed to stretch for ever, but after a time, it was broken by the Frenchman.

"... Alas, the cruel hands of fate take another before they have had the chance to bloom. Matiue, you feel responsible for this, I can see it in your eyes."

Matthew looked away, "...Yes. And I am. It's all because I was sick. If I was just able to help him, or if I had just gone with him any way... Maybe I... Maybe I could have done something. But I'm useless. He had to go out to take care of me. He did it all for me... It's all my fault."

"Non." Bonnefoy said, suddenly stern, causing Matthew to look at him again.

"Matiue, you are wrong. Nothing that happened was your fault. You cannot control your health, not with the way you were living. If you cannot control it then how does it make things your fault?"

"W-well I-"

"And also, do you think your brother would have ever let you go out in your condition? From what you have told me, he wouldn't, and I doubt there was anything you could have said that would have changed his mind. You said it yourself, he did it all for you. He did it because he loved you more than anything else. Now if he loved you that much, would he want you living your life, which he had tried so hard to preserve, in despair and regret? I think not! He would tell you to... How do you say it? To 'suck it up', and to live a good long and happy life. Of this I am certain."

The weight of his words stunned Matthew. There was so much feeling in every sentence, and a slight bitter aftertaste of lingering sorrow. It made Matthew's chest feel tight.

"M-mister Bonnefoy-"

"Please, call me Francis."

"Francis..." Matthew started again. "How do you know? How are you so sure?"

The man's eyes got a far away look in them and his mouth quirked in a sad smile. Suddenly, the young man seemed to age twenty years. A melancholy sigh escaped him.

"Because, Mon petit, I too have felt the sting that a broken heart such as yours leaves behind."

Seeing that Matthew didn't understand he elaborated. "I have also lost someone close to me, someone I thought I could never live with out." The pain was audible in his voice. "You shared your sad story with me, so I suppose it is my turn to do the same. Will you hear me?" Matthew nodded seriously and the tale began.

"I did not always live in this city, you know. A time ago, I was a resident of a city far from here called 'Sirap'. I was born there and I grew up there. Then, when I was eighteen, I left the city and joined a crew, a very special kind of crew. Together we traveled the skys and conducted our business. I even managed to rise through the ranks and become a very important person. A captain, in fact. I continued with the business for a good many years, until things became difficult. The government didn't like what I did so I decided to settle down once more. I had gained quite a lot of riches on my voyages so I was able to live quite comfortably, and having always worn a mask while doing my job the authorities were none the wiser of my identity. I thought I had found happiness. And then... I met her." Francis's eyes suddenly gleamed, as if he were remembering the most magnificent thing in the world. "She showed me what it meant to be happy. Her name was Jeanne. Jeanne Ciel Williams. The most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I always enjoyed the company of women, and I would jump from girl to girl, taking my fill of her then moving on. But she was the first, and the only, girl I ever truly loved. We fell in love, and then, when I felt the time was right, I proposed to her with a secret. And it was this secret that tore my whole world apart. I told her what I had been, but I was over heard. The little rat told the government what I had said to Jeanne, and they came." His hands clenched into fists and his voice cracked. "They came and they took her from me. I was able to escape them, but Jeanne was taken and they began trying to force the information out of her."

"What information?" Matthew asked. "What did you tell her? What did they need to know so badly?"

A humorless smile took a place on Francis's lips. "I had told her what I was. I was an outlaw. More specifically, a pirate."

Matthew's eyes grew wide. A pirate? He had read about pirates in his books, but Francis seemed nothing like the scurvy dogs of legend. Before Matthew could ask any questions, Francis continued with his story.

"I had told her that I was the feared pirate captain, '_Diamant regarda la mort_.' Or diamond eyed death in English. I went into hiding. I would have been executed if they got their hands on me and on a confession. Of course, I would never tell them anything. But the confession didn't have to come from me. And that is why they took my dearest Jeanne. If she would tell them what I had told her then she would go free and I would be hanged. But if she would not talk... They would kill her in my place, as an traitor who aided and abeded a criminal. My Jeanne... Was so brave, and so strong. She said nothing, even under threat of death. So they set the date of her execution, and planned it to be in the town square, where all could see her."

The Frenchman shook his head and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I could have saved her, of course. If I had gone and turned myself in, I would have been killed and she would have been freed. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't sacrifice myself, even for her. I was too afraid of death. It is... Something that I am ashamed of, even today. That day is one that will haunt me forever. I was there in the crowd, in disguise, as they led her to the pile of wood. She was tied to a pole and covered in oil. They burned her to death." A single tear slid down the princely face. "She died because of me and for me. I don't think my heart will ever heal. But her final words will forever live on in my memory. Though she couldn't see me, I knew she was speaking to directly to me, and she smiled as she said it. '**_La mort n'est pas la fin. Se souvenir de moi tendrement. Et ne vous avisez pas les laisser gagner_**.' Death is not the end. Remember me fondly. And don't you dare let them win."

Francis wiped his eyes and finished his story. "So, I left Sirap and came here. I started my life over again, rebuilt my fortune, and settled. I still mourn her at times, but I have come to understand something. She didn't want me to cry. She didn't want me drown in regret, and she most certainly didn't want me to give up. I now do my best to live my life to the fullest and be happy, because if I can't do that much, than my dear Jeanne died for nothing. Do you understand?"

Matthew nodded, staring at the Frenchman. His story had stunned the child. Everything Francis has said was reeling around in his head. He no longer felt sorry for himself and the feeling of hopelessness had left. '_Live every day to the fullest. Be happy.'_ He thought, feeling like a huge weight had been removed from his shoulders. '_Yes... Yes, I'll do that. Because that's what everyone else wanted for me. Mommy and Alfred, they both wanted me to be safe and happy. So I'll do what Francis did. I'll make them proud of me.'_

A gentle hand was placed on the child's small shoulder, and once again he looked into Francis's handsome face. "Matiue, I know this seems sudden, and it is quite a pivitol question, but I believe men like ourselves should stick together. Matieu, would you stay here with me?"

"W-what?" Matthew couldn't believe it. Did he really just ask...?

"Will you stay with me. You said you never had a father, so would you consider allowing me to take up that position? Would you please consider living with me in this house, becoming my son? You and I need not ever be lonely again. What do you say?"

Matthew went numb. It felt like a dream. But it was real. He knew it was real. This was actually happening. Breathlessly, Matthew nodded. Francis, seeing his answer, smiled and once again clasped the child's hand. " _c'est magnifique!_" He exclaimed, "Matiue, dear dear Matiue, from this day forward we will be together. You will be my _fils bien-aimé_. Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance."

Matthew didn't know what that meant but he did know one thing. He had a new family. Francis seemed to understand everything about him even deeper than what Matthew himself understood, and he just seemed, to Matthew, a man he could trust.

"Francis-"

"Uh-uh-uh." Francis smiled broadly and wagged a finger. "That was before. Now you call me Papa, _Mon petit_."

And Matthew smiled as well. "Um... Alright. Papa. Thank you too. For everything."

"A last name?" Matthew asked Francis as they sat at the dining table eating supper. He had been in the Bonnefoy house for almost three days now and was slowly becoming used to it. Having an actual bed, running water, and three gourmet meals a day were blessings Matthew had only ever dreamed of having, and were also doing wonders for his health, though he would often get lost in the huge manor and would be unable to get to any of those things without Francis or one of the servants having to come find him. It was Matthew's equivalent to living in a fairy tale. Only one thing could have made it even better, and that would have been if Alfred was with him too. He subconsciously wrapped his fingers around the chain that held his mother's locket and, more recently, Alfred's lucky coin. He had asked Francis to put a hole in it and now he wore it around everywhere.

The locket and the coin. Parts of his family that would forever be part of him as well.

"Yes." Francis said, drawing Matthew's attention back to him. "Everyone needs a last name. One day, when you are older, you will have to sign things, or you will sign up for something, or there will be other 'Matthew's out there and you will need a way to identify yourself. In all these cases, a last name is a must. So I have. Taken the liberty of choosing one for you."

"But-but Papa," Matthew began, "_t-tu es mon père. Je par-partage avec vous le n-nom?_" He had begun French lessons with Francis, and the language came rather naturally to him, but he would still stutter and stumble when he wasn't sure if he was saying the words the correct way.

"Share? Non. Non, Mon petit. You do not want my name." Francis said, smiling softly at the boy, "My name would not suit you. My name is dirty; stained by crime and cowardice. It is not for you. I have decided. You will be Matthew Williams."

"Williams..." That name. He had heard it before. Wasn't that... It was! It was her last name. The woman Francis had told him about. Matthew's eyes widened in surprise. "But ,Papa! That's her-"

"_Oui_. It is her name. Which is why it suits you so well." He looked straight at his adopted son. "That name. It is given to you as it was given to her. I give it to you because you are pure, innocent, brave, smart, and above all," he kissed Matthew's forehead. "The one I care for the most. Now, Matieu, I want you to promise me you will wear that name with pride, never bring it shame, and make me proud."

His words setteled upon Matthew. He didn't think himself brave or pure or any of that. But the amount of trust Francis was showing in him by placing on him that name gave Matthew a feeling of duty and determination.

"_Oui_, papa,I promise."

/

Translation:

**_mon petit, pourquoi pleures-tu revenir ici dans un tel endroit?_**** - My little one, why do you cry here?**

**_Imbèciel_**** - stupid**

**_c'est magnifique!_**** - This is magnificent!**

**_fils bien-aimé_**** - Beloved child**

**_tu es mon père. Je partage avec vous le nom?_**** - you are my Father. I share name?**

**_Oui_**** - yes**

* * *

**French translations courtesy of Google translator, so to any French speakers out there, I am terribly sorry for butchering the language.**

**So how was it? Did it give you the feels? Did you like Francis's story? Let me know!**

**Now, if you didn't figure it out before, which I am sure you did, 'Sirap' is 'Paris' spelled backwards. **

**Still looking for a cover. If I don't have any offers by the next chapter I'll draw it myself. But until then it's open.**

**No music list this time cuz the chapter is more than a week old and I don't have a clue what I was listening to.**

**Well I think this is all. Thank you!**


	4. The Life of an amnesiac Italian

"... Hey... Idiota... Wake up already!"

"Come on, Lovi, take it easy on him. We only just finished- oh, he's moving! Feli? Feliciano, can you hear me?"

The boy's brown eyes, the color of fresh coffee, opened slowly. He blinked and after a few seconds, he could see the two figures standing in front of him clearly.

"Finally." The younger one huffed. "You sure took your time coming back."

"Lovino." Said the older one, chastising the other without being stern. "Calm down. Feliciano has been through a lot. Give him some time. So," he turned to the boy and smiled kindly, "how do you feel, Feli?"

The boy looked confusedly at the people in front of him before attempting to speak. "... Are... You talking to me? Am I Feliciano?"

"Duh." Snapped the younger man. "Of course you are. There's no one but you in here with us so who else would we be talking to?" He seemed to be the grumpy type, the boy, Feliciano, observed.

Once again, the elder man answered more kindly. "Yes, as Lovino has said, you are indeed Feliciano. And this is your older brother." He gestured to the grumpy man. "And I am your grandfather. You just call me Grandpa, si?"

Feliciano sat up and looked around the room a bit. It almost looked like a hospital room. There were a bunch of tools on the walls and counters, and a cracked tile floor below. He seemed to be sitting on some kind of exam table, and there was a staircase leading up to another level.

"Feli?" The older man's- Grandpa's, voice recaptured Feliciano's attention. He was slowly filling up with questions he was dying to ask. "Are you feeling okay?" Grandpa asked.

"S-si. I think so." Feliciano confirmed. "But, I am rather confused. I don't remember either of you." He hesitated then added: "or anything at all really. Where are we? Why can't I remember? Am I sick? It's kinda dusty in here. Hey, why am I naked?" He just began spitfiring his thoughts as they came to him. The more he observed, the more he talked, and the faster his speech became, until it was almost like listening to an over excited parakeet. Finally, unable to take anymore of the jibberish, Lovino stepped forward and placed a hand over his younger brother's mouth.

"_Santa Vergine Maria_! You never shut up, do you? Just keep your mouth shut for ten minutes so we can actually answer your questions. Got it?" Feliciano blinked and nodded.

Lovino sighed and took his hand away from the younger one's face. "Alright... Where to start? Well, You're my little brother. We live with the old man here in his house," he jabbed a thumb at Grandpa, who smiled and scratched his stubbly chin, "so it's just the three of us. And we live in the city 'Emor'. Understand everything so far?"

Feliciano nodded and kicked his feet back and forth like a child being forced to sit still. Then, out of nowhere, he got a thoughtful expression on his face and, to Lovino's confusion, raised his hand.

"I... What are you doing, idiota?" Feli didn't answer. He just began waving his hand back and forth above his head. "...what in the name of Caesar Augustus is wrong with you?" Grandpa placed a hand on the shoulder of his moody grandson. "I think he has a question, Lovi." Feliciano nodded enthusiastically. Lovino threw up his hands. "Well why didn't you just say so?!"

"Well you told me to be quiet and stop talking so- oops, I talked. I'm sorry, Lovino. Please don't be angry at me." His big brown eyes pleaded into his brother's green ones and Lovino shook his head. "You really are an idiota, Feliciano. Fine. What is your question?"

"Well," said the childish Italian, "you're my _fratello maggiore_, si? And we live with Grandpa: our _nonno._ But, why don't we live with our mother and father?"

Lovino's face darkened and his hands curled around the sides of his pants. "We-we just don't! Don't ask pointless questions!"

"Lovi." Grandpa said soothingly. "I know it's hard, but Feli needs to know." He turned to his youngest grandson, eyes sad. "Feliciano, your parents did live with us in the past. They were merchants and they did a lot of traveling. Then, on a particularly long trip, we got word that their airship was attacked by pirates and they were killed. It was... Hard on all of us. I lost my daughter and Lovino and you lost your parents. But we got by."

"Oh..." He understood why Lovino had acted so angry at the question. It was probably still a painful memory. "I'm sorry. You still must be very sad."

"I'm not sad!" Lovino said sharply, glaring at the wall just to the right of Feliciano's head. "This isn't sad! This is angry! This is fury! This is hate! I'm not sad in the least bit, because one day I'm going to find the monster who did it, and I'm going to show him what happens when you screw with Lovino Vargas and his _famiglia!_" The angry young man turned on his heel and stormed off up the stairs, leaving Feliciano and Grandpa alone together.

Grandpa sighed and went over to a box in the corner. "I'm sorry about Lovino. He can be a bit coarse at times but he really does mean well." From the box he extracted several garments, then he returned to Feliciano, sitting beside him on the table before passing him the clothing. "Here, put these on. You'll catch a chill just sitting there in the nude."

Feliciano took the clothing and got to his feet to pull them on as Grandpa continued talking. "Lovino wasn't always this way. He used to be quite cheery, but the death of his parents changed him. He acts strong and puts up walls, but I think he's really broken inside. Please don't hold his behavior against him."

Feli, now all dressed, sat beside his grandfather once more. "Why would I?" He asked innocently. Grandpa looked at him as he continued to speak. "He did say some mean things, but he's not mean. I can just tell. He's hurting, so maybe he acts like that so he doesn't get hurt anymore. Maybe he just needs someone who can fix him. Maybe I can try." He smiled and Grandpa just stared for a moment. Then he broke into a smile and ruffled Feliciano's hair.

"You're a good boy, Feli. Look at you, no memories and a sweet personality still shines through. I did a good job with you."

"Eh? What?"

"Nothing. Nothing." Grandpa laughed. "Just a figure of speech. Well, that's enough about your brother for now. You still need to be told about yourself. I'll fill you in."

"Soooo... I was in an accident?"

Grandpa had just finished telling Feliciano the story and he nodded. "Mm-hm. That's right. You accidentally fell through a service hatch into the inner workings of the city. It was quite a fall and you had hit your head on something, which is the likely reason for your memory loss. But other than that you seem to have recovered quite well."

"Okay then. I bet that hurt. I'm glad I can't remember that part." He said smiling happily. All his questions had been addressed, so he was perfectly ready to accept the answers he had been given. "But, Grandpa, can I ask you one more thing?"

"Yes? What is it?"

"When can we have dinner?"

Needless to say, the day had been highly emotional for the little family. Though he had no recollection whatsoever, Feliciano adapted quickly to the lifestyle and made himself at home. Lovino seemed to have calmed down as well because, though he was still grumpy and hot tempered, he rejoined his brother and grandfather in the kitchen when dinner was being prepared. At the table, Feliciano chatted away like he had known the two in his company all his life... Which he apparently had, oh well, he liked them a lot. It seemed that the auburn haired boy would never stop talking, but there is an end to everything, even Feli's energy, as Grandpa discovered as he returned to the dining room after cleaning up after dinner, and found the youngest family member fast asleep at the table. Grandpa smiled endearingly.

"I had wondered why it had become so quiet."

Grandpa was still strong, despite his age. He lifted his grandson into his arms with ease and carried him to the back of the house, where a bedroom he shared with his brother was waiting for him. Grandpa tucked him in and then backed out of the room, shutting the door softly.

"So he really doesn't know." A voice behind him made Grandpa jump and spin around. He found himself facing Lovino.

"_Iuppiter omnipotens_!" Grandpa sighed, placing a hand on his chest. "Don't do that to me, Lovi. I know that I am unusually handsome, strong, impressive, clever, and humble, but I am still an old man. Please be kind to my aging heart."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I still don't see what Grandma saw in you, old coot." Then he sighed, and much of the hostility went out of his face. "He really doesn't know then? Any of it? Nothing about the past or who he is?"

Grandfather took on a solemn look. "Yes. That is the case. I couldn't save his memories, in fact, it is a wonder that his personality remained intact."

Lovino looked away and hugged himself as if doing this could keep all his weakness inside and out of sight. But Grandpa saw it, and he answered an unasked question that he could tell was weighing down on the young man. "He is still Feliciano, Lovino. He is still your little brother. Didn't you see him at dinner? Almost everything about him is the same. What happened to him then is in the past. This is Feliciano now. He is the same, and he needs you to be his strong big brother, like you always were before. You have to take care of him, because Feliciano is sweet and kind, but he doesn't understand the evils of the world. He didn't before and he doesn't now. He needs someone to protect him."

"You know what happened last time!" Lovino hissed, regret tainting his words, making them sour. "I couldn't protect him last time, I just let him fall, just let him..." He couldn't finish. "What makes you think I can do this?" Grandpa stepped forward and placed both of his large rough hands on his grandson's face, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Lovino Gregorio Vargas, you listen to me." He said seriously, "I know what happened to your brother was difficult, but it is time to move on. You are lucky, Lovino. You get a second chance. No one else gets a second chance, ever, in history. He doesn't remember anything that happened to him, and maybe that is for the best. Use this chance, keep him safe, and you will never have to lose him again. Do you understand me?"

Lovino stared back at his grandfather as the latter released his face, then he looked away and wiped at his eyes with his arm. A soft smile spread across Grandpa's face. "And, Lovino, it is okay to cry once and awhile. That doesn't make you weak."

"Shut up!" Lovino snapped, pushing Grandpa away with a slight flush on his face. "I'm not crying! You were just talking so close to my face that you spat in my eye a bit, you jerk!"

Grandpa chuckled. "Yes, yes, of course. Well I think I'm going to go to bed. Good night, Lovi-dovie~" He headed to the end of the hall, ignoring Lovino's angry shout of, "Don't call me that, you old windbag!"

After several weeks, Feliciano settled into a daily routine with his family. He spent his days in the company of his brother, and sometimes with his grandfather as well. However, the eldest family member had a habit of disappearing down into the basement room; the room Feliciano had first woken up in. He would stay down there for hours on end and only reappear at meal times. Once, out of curiosity, Feli had gone over to the door that held the stairs behind it with every intention of opening it and seeing what went on down there, but had been thwarted when he found the door to be locked fast. Now more curious than ever, he approached his brother with a question.

"_Fratello_, what does Grandpa do down there in the basement?" He asked. Lovino huffed.

"Do you ever stop asking questions?" This was a response Feliciano often got from the older boy. The thing was, no, Feliciano never did stop asking questions. He couldn't help it; there was just so much that he didn't know and wanted to, and Lovino always had the answers when Grandpa wasn't around, so the grumpy Italian was the main target of the younger ones inquiries. Rolling his eyes, Lovino answered the other's question. "He works down there. Someone around here has to make money or we'd all starve. As it is, thing are still tight."

Feliciano tilted his head, looking like a small child. "Then why don't you work, Lovi? And why don't I have a job? I can help!" He smiled his ditzy smile but Lovino just glowered down at the book he had been reading.

"Because there's nowhere to work in this floating scrap heap of a city. Anyone with a job is one lucky son of a-"

"Lovino! Language! Grandpa says that bad words bring bad feelings."

Lovino scowled at his brother, obviously annoyed, but he went on. "Son of a dog, happy? Jeez, if you're going to ask questions then don't interrupt when I'm trying to answer you, Idiota. Now where was I... Oh! Jobs, right, well, jobs are scarce. Really, the only way to find jobs now days is to fly to another city somewhere else. Somewhere the economy isn't swirling round the toilet bowel."

"Oh." He didn't know about all this economy stuff was about, but he understood that it meant that they didn't have a lot of money. "Then what is Grandpa's job?"

"He's an engineer. He designs and builds stuff down there. It's his workshop."

Feliciano frowned. "Then... Why was I down there when I woke up? Why did he take me to his workshop and not to a bedroom or a hospital or something?"

Lovino crossly shut his book with a snap. "How should I know what the old man was thinking? That's just where he took you and that's that." He got to his feet and turned, walking away from his brother, who called after him, perplexed at what he had said to make Lovino so irritated: "Wait! Where are you going?"

"Somewhere I can read in peace. Shut up and leave me alone." He snapped over his shoulder.

"Feliciano?" Grandpa began one morning at breakfast. "Could you sweep off the front porch? I have an important guest coming over today and I want things to look neat before they arrive. And, Lovino, can you bring in the clothes from the line? Don't want them being stolen again."

"Okie Dokie!" Replied the ever enthusiastic Feliciano while at the same moment his brother rolled his eyes and growled, "Fine."

"_gratias agimus tibi_, my little angels." Grandpa said, smiling fondly at them as he stood to wash his plate. "You make this old man very proud!" He bent over and kissed both boys on the forehead, making Feli giggle and Lovino go pink as he made a big show of wiping the kiss off with his sleeve. "Well I'll be getting ready," the old man turned and left waving a carefree hand, "Once chores are done you two can go have fun. See you soon."

Once everything on the table was cleared away the brothers went their separate ways; Lovino to the back yard and Feliciano to the front porch, gripping a broom in his hands and humming happily.

"Sweep, sweep, sweep~," he said as he worked, pushing the dirt and grime off the little platform in front of the entrance to the little house on the side of a large busy street. Passers by would pause to smile and wave at Feliciano, who was quite well known around the area, and chuckle as he waved back and shouted a greeting to them in his charming (and somewhat overbearing) fashion. It didn't matter that he knew hardly any of them, they still got a greeting. He swept on, thinking of nothing and everything all at once, until something unexpected caused a distraction.

He completed the task assigned to him and took some time to sit on the step and day dream. He did this quite a lot, mostly at times when he really should be focusing on something, like that time when he had been standing in the kitchen, in the middle of cutting a tomato and not paying attention to where the knife was until Lovino walked in and shouted at him, stopping him just before he had sliced off his fingers. He couldn't really help it; Feliciano was just a dreamer.

"Mmm," he sighed, laying back and looking into the gray smoke filled sky, "Today is nice. I could take a siesta right here." He smiled and closed his eyes. It was so relaxing. That is, until, without warning, something small, gray, and fury, landed on Feliciano's stomach. This surprised Feli so much that he went into a near panic.

"Heeeeeeeeeee!" He shrieked, sitting up suddenly and flailing his arms. The gray thing that had landed on him hissed as it went flying, landing on its feet a few feet away and fluffing up its tail to look like a shaggy bottle brush. The creature didn't run away, instead it gave the frightened Italian an almost withering look. It took Feliciano quite a while to calm down, but once he did he managed to get a good look at the creature that had terrified him so much. Then a broad, excited smile spread over his features as he identified his fur covered assailant. "A kitty!" He shrieked once more, but this time in delight. Animals were rare in the floating cities, all livestock were kept in special biomes that very few people had access too, and pets such as dogs or cats were luxuries reserved for the rich and powerful. Seeing a cat just sitting in front of his house was an unexpected treat.

"Oh! Kitty, kitty, kitty, come here kitty!" He called to the feline, which in turn pointedly ignored him and began licking one of its paws. Feliciano was unaffected by the animal's lack of interest in him. "Kitties are so cute! I want a Kitty to play with but Fratello says they cost a lot. But now you're here so we can play, right, Kitty? I'm going to call you Pookie! Come on, Pookie!" The cat paid him no attention as he babbled on, but when he suddenly moved toward it, it meowed in protest and darted off down the street. "Oh! Wait for me, Pookie!" Feliciano dashed off after the cat.

Lovino came around the corner with a basket of washing in his arms, intending to tell Feliciano to 'shut up before he made him shut up'. He got to the front yard just in time to see his brother running off alone down the street. "Hey! You _somaro_, come back here!" He shouted after the quickly shrinking form of his younger sibling. He cursed and sprinted after Feli, dropping his basket without giving it a second thought.

Feliciano chased after the cat, eyes never leaving the gray streak of fur. 'Pookie' ran like the wind, but Feliciano was fast and stayed hot on the trail of the cat. Even when it wove in and out of the legs of pedestrians dexterously it just couldn't lose the Italian, who, for a normally clumsy boy, moved almost as agile as the cat he was chasing.

The pursuit went on for the length of several blocks, and then the cat saw its chance at escape: the Tiber river that cut through Emor like the slice left behind by a knife in a stick of butter. This river had been the source of another question answer session with Lovino a few weeks prior, when he had seen the body of moving water for the first time.

_"Lovino, If we're floating, how is there a river?"_

_ "Do you ever stop asking questions? The river is artificial, obviously. It's a water purification system. Once a month, a huge straw like thing lowers from the bottom of the city and sucks up a bunch of ocean water, then that water has the salt removed at one plant before being sent down this river to another plant for purification. It's how we get all our water."_

_ "Oh, I see. You're so smart, Lovi!"_

_ "Yeah yeah, don't you forget it."_

The cat approached the rushing water at full speed and then leaped with ease to one of several stones that stuck out of the river, forming a sort of natural bridge. Each stone was around five or six feet from the next and the cat moved nimbly from one to another, finally coming to rest at the opposite bank, sure of its safety.

Feliciano stopped, breathing hard and staring at the cat that had just danced out of his reach. He sighed and his face fell. He was sorely disappointed that Pookie had gotten away from him; he had been hoping to play with the cat, even for just a little bit. But, he thought as he eyed the path the cat had taken, maybe he still had a chance. All he had to do was jump from stone to stone like the cat had done. It didn't look too hard. Sure, the fast moving water made him a little nervous but he was sure he could make it, and then he could get Pookie!

Now set on his plan, Feliciano backed up a ways, hesitated only a moment, and then took a running start at the first stone target.

The bank was ten feet away.

Seven.

Five.

Three.

One.

Time to jump!

Feli bent his knees to launch himself toward the first stone, but, just before he got airborne, he felt something wrap around his wrist tightly and without warning he was yanked backward onto the safety of solid ground. Feliciano landed hard on his rump and whimpered. What had just happened? He got to his feet, rubbing his bruised posterior. Then a familiar, and very upset, voice made him look up.

"You **moron**, Feliciano! Are you mentally damaged or just dumber than a cow!? What were you thinking!? Do you have a death wish, huh?!"

Feli's shoulders were grabbed roughly and he found himself face to face with his elder brother. "L-Lovino, I-" he didn't get to finish. Lovino began shaking him roughly and glaring.

"Were you honestly thinking about jumping? What in the name of God could have made you even consider that, huh?"

Feliciano was a little scared now. He had seen his brother angry at him before, but he had never been so angry that he grabbed the younger brother. Feli felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. "K-kitty..." He managed to choke out, pointing a finger toward the other side of the Tiber. Lovino stopped shaking him. Anger transformed into exasperation at his brother's judgment.

"A cat? You were about to try and jump across the river for a cat? You really are an idiota." He pushed Feliciano away from him and clenched both his fists and his teeth. "Feliciano Vargas, you stay away from deep water, no matter what, do you hear me? You can't swim so being near the river like this is almost suicide. You-you could have gotten yourself killed, you selfish little-..." Feliciano noticed his brother's hands starting to tremble, and as he spoke next, his voice broke. "What would I do if you died, huh? What kind of brother would let his older brother be all alone. You had better not do that to me, Feliciano, not when you and Grandpa are the only ones I have left." Tears glistened at the edges of the senior's eyes, as well as dripped down the juniors cheeks. Lovino sniffed and turned away, trying to hide his wet eyes and flushed face, and he was taken by surprise when he was hugged from behind. Feliciano had gone and locked his arms around his big brother's torso and held tight as he cried into his back.

"I'm s-sorry, Lovino. Please don't cry. Please. I'm sorry I'm stupid. I'm sorry I'm worthless. I'm sorry I'm useless. Please, no more crying. I'll never do it again, and I won't let you be alone either. Please forgive me." Lovino was silent for a time as Feliciano begged and hugged him, shaking with his remorse.

"Feliciano," he spoke at last, "I never said you were worthless, or useless, just stupid, which you are. But you are neither of the others, okay?" He sighed and wiped away his own tears. Like Grandpa had said, he needed to be strong for his little brother. "I'm sorry I shouted at you, but I panicked, okay? I panicked when I saw you running at the water. I was afraid of losing my _Fratellino_." He very rarely apologized or spoke his true feelings, and he quickly covered himself with his next words. "And I'm not crying! I was chasing after you so sweat got in my eyes. And I never said you could hug me!" But he didn't push Feli away.

After a few emotional minutes, both brothers had calmed down and Feliciano at last released Lovino. The two shared no words, but simply walked home in the silence of each other's company. The Vargas brothers learned some very important things about themselves and each other that day, things that couldn't be expressed vocally. And so the silence stretched on through the blocks and up the street into their house. It was then abruptly shattered by an indignant exclamation from Lovino upon walking into the living room.

"Why you- is this your important guest!?"

Grandpa was sitting on the couch, but he wasn't alone. There was a pretty young lady sitting with his arm around her. She was maybe twenty five, with long dark hair, big eyes, and a rather exaggerated boosom. Grandpa looked up at Lovino, "What? She's important! All ladies are important, that's a golden rule right there, Lovi!"

Lovino scowled and covered Feliciano's eyes. "Perverted old man."

The years passed in an unextraordinary way.

_ "Lovi, how old am I?"_

_ "Do you ever stop asking questions?"_

_ "I guess not."_

_ "Well, I'm seventeen right now, and you're two years younger, so you're fifteen."_

This conversation had taken place three years previously, not long after the river incident. So he knew that he was now eighteen and Lovino was twenty. He had once asked Lovino how old Grandpa was but Lovino only rolled his eyes and said, "Old." Which didn't exactly answer his question but he let it slide.

Speaking of Grandpa, Feliciano had noticed that over the years he had been seeing less and less of his care taker. As time marched mercilessly on, money became ever tighter and Grandpa scarcer. There were times when he didn't come up to eat, and increasingly common periods where it would be two or three days before either brother would see Grandpa. Grandpa also was starting to seem older, more subdued, and very tired. This worried Feliciano, and Lovino too, even though he didn't admit it.

On the third day of one of his extended absences, Lovino, who was busy cooking supper, called his little brother over. "Hey, go shout for the old man. He's gonna kill himself if he doesn't come up to eat." Feli nodded and went over to the basement door, which still remained locked at all times.

Feli laid in the floor and put his mouth near the crack under the door. "Grandpa," he shouted, "Come up to eat dinner please! I miss you and you're going to get sick down there!" He waited and after a moment Grandpa's voice could be heard calling a response, albeit a faint one.

"Si! I'm coming, Feli."

Feliciano smiled a bit and stood, going to set the table.

However, once dinner had been set out there was a fifteen minute period and still no Grandpa. Lovino cursed. "Old codger, dinner's getting cold because he's making us wait for him. Well that's it, I'm not waiting anymore!" Lovino stood and stomped off toward the basement with Feliciano following timidly behind.

Lovino pounded the door violently with his fist and shouted. "Hey you elderly jerk! We're hungry here and waiting for you! Get a move on already!"

For a time there was silence, then the soft thudding of feet against the wooden stairs began, getting closer with each sound. "About time." Lovino muttered, face stony. Then something happened that made both he and Feliciano go white as talcum.

There was another thud, but this wasn't anything like a footstep, this was much too loud and muffled, and it was followed by more thumping and crashing moving downward. The brother's locked eyes, fear and worry mirrored in both brown and green. Feliciano took his turn knocking on the door. "G-Grandpa? Grandpa, are you okay?" No answer. No sound. Lovino pounded again. "Hey! Old man, what's going on down there?" No answer. No sound.

Lovino cursed and began taking his shirt off. Feliciano looked on, confusion and panic mingling together on his face. "Lovino, what are you doing?"

"Just shut up a moment!" Lovino snapped, voice betraying his panic just as much as Feliciano's face did his. Lovino began ripping the collar if his shirt. "The stupid old man always locks this door so we need a way to get to him. We don't have the key so we have to make one. Dad showed me this trick a long time ago. To make it stiff, a shirt collar sometimes has some wire in it. If I can just get to that- Ah! Yes!" Just like he had described, a bit of metallic wire was poking out of the white fabric. Lovino pulled it out and began the tricky process of forming it to the keyhole. He had to find the tumblers fast. Each minute they were delayed was another minute Grandpa could be... Lovino increased his focus and doubled his efforts, and finally the stubborn lock clicked.

The door was thrown open and both brother's felt their hearts drop into their stomachs. There, laying at the bottom of the stairs in a crumpled heap, was their grandfather.

Lovino wasted no time. He grabbed Feliciano's arms and stared him directly in the eyes. "Feliciano, run to the hospital. Find a doctor, any doctor, and bring him back here. Run as fast as you can, do you understand?" The frightened boy nodded.

"S-si. But what about Grandpa?"

"You let me worry about him. Mom taught me some medical stuff once. Just run!" He gave Feliciano a shove toward the front door and, after hesitating a moment longer, Feliciano did as he was told and sprinted out of the house. Lovino watched him go before descending the stairs and kneeling at Grandpa's side.

Feliciano had dragged a doctor back while frantically trying to explain the situation to the somewhat bewildered physician. The man had helped move Grandpa upstairs and into his bedroom, then had begun his examination and treatment. The brothers sat in silence while the doctor worked; Feliciano anxiously wringing his hands; Lovino sitting stalk still with an expression like a stone. Finally, Feli couldn't take it any more. He whimpered loudly and sprang up. To the doctors confusion, the youngest family member latched onto his arm and began crying into the sleeve.

"_Medico_, please say that Grandpa will be alright! Please!"

The man gently removed the crying boy from himself and cleared his throat. "Well... He'll most likely live. He took quite a nasty fall and obtained a concussion, but that's not all."

"Not all?" Lovino asked, still not having moved from his seated position by the wall.

"Yes. Unfortunately, there's more. I have determined that he has excessive amounts of fatigue and stress, which have weakened his heart. I'd reckon he didn't just slip on a step. I'm thinking that he collapsed because of exhaustion. He also hasn't eaten for a time, the sunken eyes tell me that, and lastly, I see signs of lead poisoning. You said he's an engineer, so he probably got it from the metals he works with. Not to mention that he's not exactly young any more. All of this combined have resulted in him being very sick."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Lovino asked.

"I suggest that it is time for your grandfather to retire. He should avoid strenuous exercise and stressful environments. No more metal work either. It could make his poisoning worse. It would also help if someone with medical knowledge were here to look after him and monitor his health."

Feli looked anxious. "But if Grandpa can't work, how will we-"

"Thank you, doctor." Lovino cut his brother off. "You can just send us the bill."

The man nodded. "Alright then. I will do just that. I'll see myself out. Good day." And he turned and left the room. As soon as the door shut, Feliciano began speaking again.

"Lovino, what are we going to do? If Grandpa can't work, how will we live?" Lovino was silent. "Lovino?" Feliciano tried again.

"I heard you the first time. I don't know what we're going to do, okay? But I'll think of something." After this exchange both were silent. Lovino sighed after a long time. "Go to bed, Feliciano."

"But-"

"Go to bed." More firmly this time. Feliciano swallowed and slouched off slowly to his and Lovino's bedroom.

Feliciano could usually sleep anytime and anywhere, but tonight was different. Rest refused to come to him, even after hours of laying in bed. His mind couldn't stop locking on the problem: how would they live with no source of income? He tossed and turned; there were no jobs for either him or Lovino in this city, and things were constantly getting worse. They would starve if something wasn't done, but what could they do in a city with no employment options?

"..." Slowly, Feliciano opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as something Lovino had once said came back to him. Back when he had first asked what Grandpa did in the basement Lovino had mentioned that people could find jobs by flying to other cities. What if... Yes, what if he, Feliciano, flew to another city, and found a job, and sent money home for Lovino and Grandpa. It could work! Any trace of drowsiness that Feliciano might have had instantly left him as he leaped to his feet and ran out of the room, down the hall, and into Grandpa's room, where Lovino jerked awake at his brother's sudden appearance, still sitting in the same place he had been since the doctor left.

"Feliciano? What are you doing?" Asked Lovino, too perplexed to be grumpy.

"I've got it!" Feliciano exclaimed, running to stand in front of his brother. "I know how we can make money! I've got it." He told his plan to Lovino, but instead of looking thrilled for a solution like Feli had thought he would be, his brother's face hardened.

"No." He said the moment Feliciano had finished .

"What?"

"You heard me, I said no! If you think I'm letting you go off on your own to another city-"

"But It's the only thing that could work, Lovi! You said it yourself that there aren't any jobs here!"

"We can still look."

"But what happens when we run out of money?" Feli asked, out doing himself by coming up with such logical arguments. "It's the only way."

"Then I'll go!" Lovino snapped, getting to his feet. "You stay here with Grandpa and I'll make the journey."

"But the doctor said that someone with medical experience should stay with Grandpa. I don't know anything about medicine but you said you do."

"Only a little!"

"That's more than I know."

"I don't want you out there on your own where I don't know if I'll ever see you again, Feliciano!"

"You will see me again, though." Feliciano insisted. "If we save up enough money then we can get a house in a better city and you and Grandpa can come live with me over there."

"Feliciano Vargas, I will not-"

"Let him go, Lovi." Came a soft voice from the bed that made both boys jump and look around. Grandpa was awake, eyes open and looking at them.

"I... What?" Asked Lovino, seeming at a loss for words.

"Let Feliciano go." He repeated. "This is something he has to do." Lovino gaped.

"But... But you said that it's my job to take care of him! How can I do that when he's god only knows how many miles away?"

"It was your job to take care of him, Lovino," Grandpa said soothingly, "But now Feli needs the chance to grow up. It's his turn to take care of you."

Lovino stared back and forth between his brother and grandfather. Then he clenched his fists and put his head down. "... Fine. Fine, but don't blame me if he comes back dead." He pushed past Feliciano without another word and left the room. Grandpa sighed and beckoned Feli closer.

"Lovi's going to need some time." He said, taking the hand of his youngest grandson. Feliciano looked down.

"I didn't want to make him mad. I just want to help. Both of you have always worked so hard for me, I just thought..." He trailed off.

"Don't feel bad, Feli. It is a wonderful plan and I'm very proud of you for thinking of it. I am also proud of how brave you are." This statement took Feliciano by surprise.

"Wha? Me, brave? I don't think so, Grandpa. I can't be brave when so many things scare me."

Grandpa shook his head. "That's not what bravery means. Bravery isn't not being afraid."

"Then what is brave?" Feliciano asked curiously.

Grandpa smiled. "That, my little angel, is something you have to figure out for yourself. A day will come when you will prove just how brave you are, and those around you will look to you in awe. Now, go pack some things up and take some money from my lock box in the dresser. You have a long trip ahead of you."

Feliciano stood on the dock, facing Lovino who looked back at him with a sour expression. In his hand he clenched a small case that held all of his belongings and the small purse of money that Grandpa had provided him with. The day had come to bid his brother farewell.

Lovino looked away as he spoke. "Well, idiota, don't you go getting yourself killed, and don't go ticking off the wrong people, and don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong, and make sure to send letters so we know you're still alive." Feliciano nodded.

"I will. ... I'm going to miss you, Lovino."

"Yeah yeah, save the mushy stuff." Lovino muttered.

A call was made for all riding the airship to board. This was it. But Feli didn't move yet. Lovino slowly looked up at him. "Well? Don't tell me you're wimping out on- hey!" He was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug from his brother.

"I love you, Lovino. Think of me, please."

Lovino stood completely still for a moment. Then he sighed and hugged back with a resigned expression. "I love you too, Feliciano. Good luck."

Lovino watched as Feliciano disappeared onto the airship. As the vessel took off, he crossed himself and prayed. "Oh God, you have taken almost everything from me. But please, if I have ever done anything right, bring my brother back to me, safe and sound. Please, let him live and bless him. Amen."

/

Italian Translation:

_Santa Vergine Maria!_ - Holy virgin Mary!

_fratello maggiore_ - Older brother

_nonno_ - grandfather

_famiglia_ - family

_Somaro_ - dunce

_Fratellino_ - little brother

_medico_ - doctor

/

Latin translation:

_Iuppiter omnipotens_! - Jupiter almighty!

_gratias agimus tibi_ - Thank you.

* * *

**_Okay! First, a mandatory reference!_**

**_"Hello. My name is Lovino Vargas. You killed my parents. Prepare to die."_**

**_Sorry, couldn't help it._**

**_On a more serious note, the next chapter is going to take a bit longer. See, I do all my writing on my tablet, because I don't have the time to sit down at a computer and type. I only do the last bit of editing and my AN's on my laptop. Well, last Wednesday, I dropped the tablet. It was in the case and only like a foot off the ground, but it just happened to land on the corner and break the screen. Now on a device with a conductive touch interface, that's kinda a big problem. The only reason I am able to post this chapter is thanks to the fact that I copied and pasted it to google drive to send it to my editor. My tab is in the process of being fixed so hopefully my beloved readers won't be kept waiting too long._**

**_About the cover: I've drawn a cover and will post the sketch art on DA when I get the time. Once up, I'll provide a URL for those who wish to view it._**

**_What I listened to:_**

**_The Princess Bride OST_**

**_HetaOni OST_**

**_Shooting Star - Owl City_**

**_Medal - Little Boots_**

**_AND_**

**_Hetalia Episode 23.5 - read by Mr. CreepyPasta._**

**_As for that last one... My God, The feels... I'm scarred for life. If you haven't read it or heard it then check it out. It's something every Hetalia fan should know of._**

**_Okay, last thing, and this concerns the chapter itself. To avoid confusion, I have been told by my editor to mention the following:_**

**_This story will not always be linear with its time line. The past chapters have been linear, or, at the very least, took place in the same small period of time. However, up coming chapters can take place in the future or the past, and involve seemingly unconnected events. It will be to the reader to make sense of it. (Though if you find it too confusing, you can PM me any questions and I will happily answer them.) I will tell you that this chapter starts years before the events of the first chapter, however, when it ends it is approximately the same time span in which Alfred and Arthur meet. Make sense? I hope so._**

**_My Senior year starts next week, so I will undoubtedly be busy. Despite this, I hope to publish a new chapter every three weeks or sooner. _**

**_Well, Thank you to everyone who is reading! Please review and point out any grammar or spelling issues I missed. Help me to become a better writer so I can bring you better quality stories!_**

**_You can follow me on twitter too, and get sneak peaks at the chapters, as well as a look into my (somewhat nonexistent) life._**

** Atsuko_Inoue**

_**Later~**_

* * *

_**Okay! Cover sketch is now on DA! Check it out and tell me if you like it! :)**_

art/COGS-cover-sketch-393285493


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